


When to Leave Well Enough Alone

by Lenny9987



Series: Lenny's Imagine Claire and Jamie Prompts [6]
Category: Outlander (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:05:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6530428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenny9987/pseuds/Lenny9987
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Imagine Mrs Fitz catching Laoghaire with the bad wish doll and discovering that she was going to hand C over to the witch hunters. Would she help C? Afterall she saved her nephew or would shw just let L get on with it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	When to Leave Well Enough Alone

Mrs. Fitz sent one of the kitchen maids to the butcher’s with a list of what she knew they would need while another of the kitchen maids was dispatched to the kitchen gardens to fetch the herbs and a third was set to conduct an inventory of the materials that would be needed for dressing the hall in the event they were short or some of what they had required replacing.

With the lasses safely out of the way for at least an hour, Mrs. Fitz returned to the kitchen to discover that Claire had said whatever it was that needed saying and had gone—back to her surgery no doubt; with the preparations underway for the Duke’s visit, there would likely be more than a few extra injuries incurred by the folk about the castle. Laoghaire was red-faced and fuming, her hands fidgeting with something that looked like a bundle of sticks. When she saw her grandmother walk in, she put the thing behind her back and evaded the older woman’s gaze.

“And what did Mistress Fraser have te say?” Mrs. Fitz inquired of her granddaughter. “It seemed to be somethin’ serious from the look on her face and it seemed ye kent what it was about afore she said.”

Laoghaire flushed a deeper red, the mark from Claire’s hand standing out starkly on her cheek.

“She struck ye then?” Mrs. Fitz asked, puzzled as she reached for the lass’ chin. Laoghaire tried to pull away but her hands were still tucked safely behind her back and Mrs. Fitz’s grasp was firm. “What did ye do to her then, lass? Or was it to do with her young man? I hope ye’ve more sense in yer heid than to try and come between a man and his wife.”

Laoghaire jerked more forcefully and successfully escaped Mrs. Fitz’s grasp, turning her body so that her back was to her grandmother and her hands were in front of her once more, still blocked from sight along with whatever it was they held.

“It’s that wench has come between us,” Laoghaire said sharply. “Tween me and Jamie. Anyone as was in the hall that night he took my punishment kens the truth of that.”

Mrs. Fitz did her best to stifle her _harrumph_ of disagreement—Laoghaire had a deal of learning yet to do when it came to the ways of men but like most lasses of her age, believed she kent all there was to know. Ripping the truth from her too sharply could cause more harm than good.

“Aye,” she said gently, resting a hand on the lass’ shoulder. “What the lad did for ye tha’ day was honorable and there’s none as’ll deny it. But there’s much as goes through a lad’s mind and there may ha’ been more’n you on it when he did that.”

Laoghaire’s head snapped around defiantly. “No. He did it for _me_. I ken he did. And were it no for that Sassenach witch’s interference, we’d be together still.”

Mrs. Fitz gave her granddaughter a light smack upside the head for talking back. “Ye ken weel enough yer father wouldna have agreed to that marriage whether young Jamie was willing or no and Mistress Fraser has done enough as healer here—and for yer own kin, I might add—for ye to speak of her wi’ more respect than tha’—were it no for her Thamas wouldna still be walkin’ this earth.”

Laoghaire looked about to open her mouth again but the look on her grandmother’s face was enough to inspire her to silence—speech was unnecessary as her sour expression spoke volumes.

“Ye’ll leave the both of them alone if ye ken what’s good for ye,” Mrs. Fitz warned. “Wha’s that?” she asked, reaching for the bundle of sticks Laoghaire had been holding out of sight. Laoghaire tried to pull them out of her reach but Mrs. Fitz was quicker than she looked.

She turned the bundle of sticks and herbs over, examining the strings that held the cluster together.

“Laoghaire MacKenzie, this had better no be what I think it is.” Her voice was deep with disapproval and her granddaughter had the decency to look abashed as Mrs. Fitz through the bundle into the flames of the nearby hearth before smacking the lass upside the head with greater force. “There’s but one place ye could ha’ got that foul thing and you can take that daft look off yer face—acting like ye dinna ken what I’m on about.” Mrs. Fitz huffed as Laoghaire refused to meet her eye but didn’t look as ashamed as her grandmother thought she ought. “I’ll be having a word wi’ Father Bain on this, I’ll tell ye that right now—he’ll have plenty to say to ye on the subject, I’m sure. And if ye dinna leave the Frasers well enough alone, I’ll make sure yer _father_ hears about yer visit to Mistress Duncan. Ye ken weel that he’ll ha’ words wi’ the MacKenzie about the nature o’ that visit—and I dinna think young Jamie will be offering to take yer punishment for ye a second time. Now get yer hands busy with something useful.”

Laoghaire shuffled off to clear a space on the table for whatever Mrs. Fitz might need it for, casting a lingering glance at the ill-wish as the fire consumed it, scenting the air with the singed herbs.


End file.
